


Revelation

by justlikeyouimagined



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Begging, Blood Kink, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, D/s undertones, Desanguination, Dubious Consent, Impact Play, Kinky Waterboarding, M/M, Masochism, Masochist Will, Power Dynamics, Sadism, Sadist Hannibal, death kink, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeyouimagined/pseuds/justlikeyouimagined
Summary: A week after Will's unconventional therapy session, in which he confessed to harboring rather unprofessionaland darkly kinky feelings towards his psychiatrist, Will is back in Hannibal's office. He is intent on moving past the incident, but Hannibal has staked his claim and intends to further explore Will's death kink. All in the name of therapy, of course.Inspired by jonnimir'sConfessions.





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonnimir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnimir/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002965) by [jonnimir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnimir/pseuds/jonnimir). 



> Warnings info: In keeping with the original by jonnimir, Hannibal is very pushy and Will has serious erotic asphyxiation fantasies that bleed into death kink. They engage in an excessive amount of blood play. Please be aware that the story toes the line of dub-con at several points. Dangerous kinks are performed without proper negotiation. Not recommended for home use.

When they met again the following week, Will walked blatantly around the elephant in the room. He spoke of the current case that Jack had involved him in, his insomnia, his untethered imagination. At one point, he caught himself about to launch into a story about Winston; whatever he could do to avoid the conversation from turning to what had happened last week.

Hannibal took Will’s lead, though he didn’t spare him a sharp look when Will cut himself abruptly off as soon as his analysis of last week’s murder scene had veered into possible sexual motivations. No, no need to bring that up.

Their hour over, Will was halfway through the exit when Hannibal finally broached the topic.

“Am I right to assume that since you have not called upon me this week, it means that you have had no further need for relaxation?”

Will paused, and turned back into Hannibal’s office cautiously. This reeked of a set-up. His eyes darted low, keeping watch of Hannibal based on the position of his leather shoes. Closing the door behind him, he took a moment to consider what reactions his various responses might elicit. What reactions he might _want_ to elicit.

“I wouldn’t say the need has significantly subsided.” Will at last admitted. In fact, his mind's addition of hyper-realistic kink scenes entangled with his ongoing nightmares had him waking much more frequently, either covered in sweat, or hyperventilating, or uncomfortably hard. Sometimes all three. 

“You recall what you agreed to?” Hannibal asked. The bottoms of his brogues clicked against the hardwood as he moved closer.

Will nearly let himself be pushed back by the authority with which Hannibal moved towards him. He swallowed, hard, and collected his words.

“That - That you’ve claimed me,” he whispered, voice hoarse. Hannibal took a step closer, urging him on. “That I need to tell you precisely what I want in order for you to… satisfy.”

He flicked his eyes up to meet Hannibal’s. A predatory delight made the whites of them shine; the dilated blacks of his pupils stood out in stark contrast. Will did take a step back then. before he caught himself. Widening his stance, he then anchored himself in place.

“Just so,” Hannibal agreed. “Given that, I wonder if there is anything you have wished to ask of me?”

He rubbed his thumb distractedly over the pads of his other fingers. When Hannibal looked down to observe his fidgeting, he forced himself to still completely. Hannibal’s eyes gleamed with the suggestion of amusement.

“Look, I - I’m not sure this is a great idea,” he said. He could recall considering his wording for just this conversation again and again over the past week; regardless, he stumbled over himself as he spoke now. “Don’t get me wrong, it was good. Great - _fuck_. It's inviting complications, and I don't do relationships well, and -”

Hannibal cut him off. “You’re saying that, at this moment, you do not want to confide in me any… unfulfilled desires that might be serviced in order to quiet your mind?”

Will ran a hand through his hair, noticing how clammy his skin felt as he brushed the curls back from his forehead. “Uh.. right. I shouldn't need your help - not like that, I mean.”

Hannibal paused his slow prowl towards Will; barely an arm’s length separated them. Will felt much warmer than he had any right to.

“I will admit that is a shame.”  Hannibal considered Will, head tilting a fraction. “However, it does not release you of your responsibility to me.”

Will blinked at the words. “Responsibility?” he spat.

Hannibal closed the distance between them with a rapid lunge, twisting and pulling at the fabric of Will’s shirt so that Will was forced to lean into Hannibal's space. He let out a surprised huff and tried not to lose his balance.  

“If you will recall, beyond my willingness to employ unconventional methods to help you,” Hannibal said lowly, moving his head to slot beside Will’s own so that he could feel the heat of Hannibal’s breath tickle the rim of his ear. “I was also told that _I own you_.” The last words hissed out, more air than syllables.

A wave of goosebumps ran from Will's wrist to neck, the prickling sensation swelling over and down his back and onward to his toes. An awkward smile lit up Will’s face, and he stepped back to look at Hannibal directly. Hannibal’s grip on the front of Will’s shirt did not let up.

“Ok, right. Come on now, Hannibal.” Hannibal stared back, eyes lacking any previous hint of amusement. Will’s smile faltered. “That’s - it wasn’t like… I never meant it like that. I said a lot of things.”

"That you didn't mean?" he asked. Hannibal unclasped Will's shirt, but then moved it upwards so swiftly that Will had no time to react before his tight grip was around his throat. Pleasure shot through him.

“Hhh… Hannibal - don’t -” Will gasped. His hand came up to try to dislodge Hannibal’s fingers, but with Hannibal used his free hand to grab hold of Will’s pinky finger, and twisted his arm back so forcefully Will contorted and froze in order not to aggravate the already throbbing pain shooting up his arm.

“Let’s keep this straightforward," Hannibal said. "Your safeword is ‘confession’. Three rapid taps with your hand will accomplish the same thing should you find yourself unable to speak.”

Hannibal’s eyes glinted in the dim office lighting. He released Will's finger and swept them both around so that Hannibal now stood between Will and the exit. He used his grip on Will’s throat to steer him towards the chaise lounge.

Will looked at Hannibal, a wild rage making the edges of his vision swim. “Con- con..” he began, but at the last moment, stopped himself from saying the word that would make Hannibal release him. He hadn't felt settled with asking for this again, even half convinced himself it was better to avoid it altogether. But Hannibal's hand on his throat crushed his resolve.

Hannibal’s nostrils flared at Will’s decision. Deliberately slow, he eased his grip on Will’s neck. “Understood?”

Will let in a single rasping gasp and nodded. Despite his only slight advantage in musculature,  Hannibal nevertheless appeared to loom over Will as he was directed across the office. When his calf hit the edge of the chaise, he gratefully fell back upon it in search of more space.

Will nodded, then added once he trusted his voice, “Okay. Yes, Sir.”

A look of unfiltered adoration settled over Hannibal as he looked down upon Will. “Excellent. Now, undress and lie down.”

Will’s fingers trembled with his buttons at first, but as the layers of clothing were shed, so too was his unease. Hannibal’s piercing gaze spurred him on; he wanted to cooperate.

Hannibal stepped towards the head of the chaise, as though he might dip down for a kiss, but instead he swept past. Will resisted the urge to sit up and crane his neck to keep him in his line of sight. The occasional metal clang or crinkling of plastics served to both unnerve and arouse him at once.

Hannibal returned with a small collection of steri-sealed medical equipment, as well as a large glass jug. He watched Hannibal's hands as each bag was opened; his stomach flipped when he caught sight of the butterfly needle.

In a clinically detached manner, Hannibal set about connecting the tubing to the jug, and readying Will for collection. He tied the tourniquet tight around the edge of his bicep. The compression the tourniquet afforded was enough to fill Will's mind with lurid images of bondage, which made his cock begin to fill. Without thinking, he curled his fingers into a first, making the veins of his forearm dance up along its smooth surface.

The needle prick barely registered, so engrossed as Will was. _He’s done this before, afterall,_  Will reminded himself watching with dark eyes as his blood began to steadily pull out of the needle, through the tubing, and drip down into the glass jug. Soon, the blood began to pool as it reached the sides of the container. The colour of collected blood - not sprayed or spattered about a scene, but gathered in a puddle - never ceased to hold his attention. It was a deep maroon, so dark that might pass for black in the dim light.

Hannibal taped the needle down, then sighed at the sight of him. His hand moved to wrap around Will’s half-hard cock. Hannibal began to stroke, languorous. Though he filled out further, Hannibal's painfully slow pace was also deeply frustrating. Soon, Hannibal slowed his pace even more, only relenting to give Will sufficient pleasure whenever he began to soften slightly from too little attention.

It wasn’t long before Will felt the beginnings of dizziness tug at him: the insides of his lips tingled, and his feet were icey cold. His head began to fog as well, as though his thoughts were swathed in muslin. The wide base of the jug made it difficult for him to gauge just how much blood had been drained. The uncertainty - of Hannibal’s goals, or perhaps even his own willingness to comply - made him squirm. He noticed his heart beating faster for it, and consciously tried to calm his body and mind.

Hannibal’s eyes raked over Will’s body greedily. Despite the still-rapid beating of his heart, Will began to feel increasingly more sedate. Hannibal, in turn, appeared to grow more energized. His cock strained obviously within the confines of his pants.

“When’re you gonna stop?” Will asked eventually, his words unintentionally lazy. The sight of the filling jug made him shiver.

“The human body can withstand blood loss of at least 30 percent volume before transfusion is necessary.” Hannibal said, then dragged his nails down the length of Will's stomach.

Will’s eyes flicked to meet Hannibal’s. “You didn't answer my question.”

“I do not have the supplies for a transfusion tonight,” Hannibal paused, jerking his fist slowly over Will's cock. “But blood loss will exaggerate the effects of asphyxiation.”

Will's stomach lurched. He gritted his teeth to keep from audibly groaning. Hannibal cracked a small smile, but otherwise stayed teasingly unaffected by Will's reaction.

With the exception of Hannibal’s increasingly heavy inhales, the office was eerily quiet. Hannibal’s hand on his cock felt fiery, which made him realize by contrast how chilled he had become. A cold sweat had broken out over his chest and across his forehead. He swallowed back the concern that licked up his throat, choosing to trust that Hannibal knew when enough was enough.

Will found himself sinking into the padding of the chaise more with time, his muscles releasing tension he hadn't been aware he’d been holding. Eventually, his cock flagged as well. Hannibal gave it some attention, which made Will squirm and push himself up into. The feeling of Hannibal’s hand on him was shockingly good, but physically he only filled a fraction more. This must have pleased Hannibal; he let out of small growl of appreciation.

“There,” Hannibal said, removing the tourniquet and stopping the blood’s flow. Weakly, Will moved to take a cotton ball and press it against the red bead on his forearm. The last of the blood drained out of the tubing and into the jug. Hannibal hummed. When capped, he held up the glass container, half full of viscous fluid, spattered red where the flow had splashed along the walls..

Will moved to try to sit up, but Hannibal immediately pressed a hand to his chest, making his arms buckle easily and his torso fall limp onto the chaise. The room swam from such little effort. He resigned himself to his place, watching through half-lidded eyes as Hannibal disposed of the equipment.

As he returned, Hannibal slipped his belt off and wrapped the buckle’s end about his hand. He let out the first whip mid-step towards Will, using his momentum to drive further power into the blow. Will grit his teeth in time for the second hard slap to land in virtually an identical stripe across his chest. He flinched, then let out a satisfied groan. His cock twitched, but refused to grow hard.

Again and again, Hannibal whipped Will's chest and upper thighs. The eighth blow made Will shout in pain, which quickly transformed into a deep moan as the sensation bled over his torso. He felt light-headed, his body awash with pain, simultaneously frigid and burning hot where the lashes had marked him. Hannibal pulled his hand back and readied himself for another harsh blow.

“Please,” Will let out, his face contorted.

“What do you want?” Hannibal asked. He paused, but held the belt firmly in his right hand.

Will breathed into the blazing sensation. His heart was rabbiting in his chest; surely much more than could be attributed to mere arousal. Hannibal waited patiently.

“I want - a lot of things.” Will conceded at last. His hand wrapped around his nearly-limp cock to tug uselessly at it. The feeling was there, shrouded somewhat by a whole-body buzz that had set in after the blood draw, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Hannibal slapped Will’s hand away with a well-aimed lick of his belt.

"Use your words, Will.” Hannibal reminded him.

Hannibal unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, finally letting his cock free. It was thick - long enough - but most noticeably thick. Hannibal slid his hand over the shaft, pulling back the foreskin to reveal its slick red head. Will’s ass clenched, remembering what it had felt like shoved inside him, his hips grinding mercilessly against the edge of Hannibal’s desk. Hannibal’s brow lifted, as if in question.

“I want your cock.” Will decided. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips; his mouth watered. “I want to taste your cock.” He nodded to himself; Hannibal smiled.

Hannibal moved forward and tilted his hips, which teased the tip of his cock over Will’s half-open lips. “Do you fantasize about choking yourself on my dick?” Hannibal asked, and pulled his cockhead over Will’s lips and cheek, leaving a slick trail of pre-come.

Will nodded his confirmation so fiercely, his vision blurred. The edges of the room pulsed in warning. “Yes, _fuck_ yes. Please Sir.”

Hannibal’s fingers snaked through the tangle of curls, pulling Will’s head.

“Head up. That’s it, boy,” Hannibal said. He swept his leg over and settled into a straddle atop Will’s chest, his cock close enough that Will could feel the heat radiating off of it.

Will opened his mouth wide and flicked his eyes up to Hannibal as if to beg _._ Hannibal leaned forward and pushed his cock past Will’s lips and into the wet heat of his waiting mouth.

His lips stretched around Hannibal’s girth. Immediately, relief washed over him: from feeling useful, from feeling owned and at the mercy of another. His jaw ached after only a moment. Serving Hannibal in this way felt better than he’d imagined it could.

Hannibal placed a hand gently over Will’s hollowed cheek. He dug his nails into Will’s scalp, pulling his head sideways so that he had to open his mouth wider to let Hannibal slide his cock over his teeth and push into the muscle of his cheek. Hannibal stroked where his cockhead pushed the skin taut, rutting in more forcefully and straining the join of Will’s lips.

Will was maneuvered again, head pulled forward and straightened so that when Hannibal pushed in, he felt the telltale slide of his cock move past his mouth and into his throat. Tired and weak; his throat relaxed with only some cursory spasms, allowing Hannibal in deeper still.

He tried to suck in a final, laboured breath through his nose without success: Hannibal’s girth had pushed his soft palate up, effectively sealing his airway. He was truly choked. Helpless. Pleasure ignited in his belly; his flaccid cock jerked against his thigh.

“That’s right, hold it in there boy. Let me fuck your throat raw.” Hannibal growled, pulling out a fraction before pushing forcefully back into the narrowed passage, always careful to keep Will plugged and without air.

The feeling of being choked from the inside was altogether distinct from what he vividly remembered from last week: of Hannibal squeezing muscle and cartilage with one hand while he finger fucked him with the other. Like this, his body seemed unwilling to register that he was incapable of breathing; his nostrils closed tight with each useless effort to pull oxygen past the intrusion.

It took little time for an intense new level of disorientation to overtake him, bringing with it the intoxicating mix of biting panic and deep arousal. He moaned around Hannibal’s cock, letting the muscles of this throat shift. He wanted to savor the feeling, knowing very well that Hannibal would pull out any second or he'd pass out.

Hannibal didn't let up though, instead fucking in deep with small grinding thrusts. Will imagined the what ifs and wriggled in pleasure beneath Hannibal. What if he didn't let up? What if, baring him tapping out, Hannibal kept fucking his throat, harder and harder, not stopping when Will fell limp, keeping Will's blue-purple lips tight around his thick shaft until he got want he wanted?

The thought alone was enough to quell Will's more primal reactions that were building as his body screamed for air. His hands flew up to push against Hannibal’s thighs, but he refused to make any movement that might be confused as a tap. He was too weak to push him off without Hannibal's help. Above him, Hannibal pushed himself in further.

Dissociating thoughts swam through Will’s mind; cortically, he wanted to spur Hannibal on, hold on as long as possible to the edge of consciousness and then let himself fall helplessly over. He wanted to be rendered little more than a tool for Hannibal to use as he pleased. Subcortically, his brain wailed at him to get out, _escape_ , do anything he could in order to breathe again.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. Eyes shot wide, he watched Hannibal, whose expression merely grew hungrier. His lungs ached beyond belief. His face contorted from pain.

Quickly - too quickly - his eyes grew heavy, and quite suddenly he couldn't keep them open at all. The last thing he remembered was Hannibal shifting so his cock rubbed mercilessly along the roof of his mouth and throat. Then, nothing.

Hannibal watched Will carefully throughout, from when Will eagerly let him push into his throat, to when he shifted and tried to groan in pleasure as his lungs pulled the last of the oxygen out of the trapped air, to when he turned frantic, controlled only enough not to tap out in order to halt the onslaught completely. He was immensely impressed; it was a commendable feat to fight against the body's most basic needs.

His cock twitched when Will's eyes drooped. When his whole body fell slack a second later, Hannibal let out a wanton noise before pulling himself out completely.

For a half-second, nothing happened. Will's head rolled to the side and he lay there, serene and absolutely still. Then, just as suddenly as he had lost consciousness, his body jerked violently back awake. Eyes wide, mouth agape, Will sucked air noisily in, again and again. Hannibal was nearly bucked off by the force of Will's body's convulsions.

Will searched the room wildly, without purpose, until his gaze landed on Hannibal. His shocked look was replaced with a wide grin.

“Welcome back,” Hannibal said.

Will grabbed at Hannibal's thighs to pull him closer.

"Yes! Again - more! Don't stop this time,” he blabbered, trying unsuccessfully to lick the head of Hannibal's cock.

“So eager for your demise,” Hannibal hummed. “I will have to be careful not to catch your enthusiasm.”

Will let out a hoarse laugh, locked eyes with Hannibal and opened his mouth wide. Waiting.

Hannibal stroked away sweat beading on Will's brow. “If you insist.”

Slowly, teasingly slowly, he pushed himself back into the hot expanse of Will's mouth and down into his throat.

This time, With knew what to expect. He didn't think Hannibal would push him as far as he imagined in his fantasies, but knowing Hannibal was willing to push past where others had balked was enough to undo him. He sucked hard through his nose, only vacuuming Hannibal's cock more fully up against his palate. His stomach heaved; he fought his natural reaction to gag and try to expel the blockage. He kept his eyes locked onto Hannibal's and welcomed the buzzing about his lips, his fingertips, creeping from the base of his skull and over.

This time, Hannibal remained relatively still. The feeling of him being plugged by Hannibal, being denied even the simple luxury of air: it was enough to make his cock arch up weakly away from his thigh, blood loss be damned.

It happened faster, this time. As he watched Hannibal, entirely enraptured, a darkness prickled up at the edges of his vision, then bled rapidly inward until he could barely tell his eyes were open at all. He focused on Hannibal's face throughout; the last thing he saw clearly was the uptick of Hannibal's lips, curling into a wicked smile.

When he passed out the second time, the muscles in his neck relaxed enough that he fell back into the chaise nearly enough to dislodge Hannibal from his throat himself.

Hannibal recognized what Will wanted, what they both wanted, on some level. He pushed himself further into Will's limp head, fucking in once more. Then again. Again. With a great effort, he gathered his resolve and finally pulled himself out.

Will didn't wake immediately, as before. He lay, a near perfect impression of a corpse: deathly pale, lips tinged a sickly blue-pink, his body beaded with cold sweat. Completely lax, utterly useless.

Hannibal shifted himself off of Will's chest to admire him more fully.

Two seconds.

Four.

Will's chest exploded upward with his first successful intake of air, his back arching with the need to suck as much as possible into his withered lungs. Another violent inhale followed, then an awful gasping cough that kept on for a solid minute.

From his position beside him, Hannibal stroked himself rapidly, flexing and curling his toes against the building need to release. He snaked his other hand through Will's sweat damp hair, pulling ruthlessly on it so Will writhed and jerked wherever he directed him. It took a moment for him to recover, but eventually Will moaned enthusiastically at his rough treatment. A weak smile spread over his face.

“Again,” he breathed, then laughed softly. “Fuck, again.”

Hannibal tugged hard on Will’s scalp and stepped back, forcing him to lean up and stumble to his feet. His knees buckled almost immediately; Hannibal moved in for support. Leaning down, he grabbed hold of the blood jug with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around Will. Like this, they stumbled across the office, into his private bathroom.

The contrast between the womb-like warmth of Hannibal’s dimly lit office and the sterile whiteness of the bathroom was intentionally off putting. Hannibal meant for patients to feel misaligned by its starkness whenever they moved out of his sphere of influence. He wanted their return to his carefully curated office to feel like a welcome reprieve. A sort of rescue.

For Will, the harsh lighting exaggerated his pallor, the blue-purple bags under his eyes stood out more sharply against his alabaster skin. His eyes flicked away from his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He took note at how Hannibal seemed unable to look away.

Hannibal directed him so that he could sag down onto the lid of the toilet seat. His breathing was heavy, his body practically pulsed with the frantic beating of his overworked heart. Elbows tented over his thighs, he sat with his head bowed until the room slowed its spinning. Then, he carefully lifted his head up to give Hannibal a curious look.

“You need fluids,” Hannibal said by way of explanation, repositioning the jug so it rested on his hip. Will felt the warmth of his palm as he ran it gently over the edge of his jaw. With a smile that revealed a glint of teeth, he added, “And I prefer to keep the mess isolated. Now, if you will: chin up, head back.”

Hannibal pulled Will’s head back so that his neck stretched before him. Instinctively, Will opened his mouth, exhausted but nevertheless needing to express his enthusiasm.

“Stay.”

“Yes Sir,” Will whispered, his tongue running along the edges of his teeth.

When Hannibal draped the white hand towel completely over his face, Will jerked a bit in surprise but managed to hold his position. He made a small confused noise from under the cloth.

“Shhh Will, deep breath, then let it all out.”

Will obeyed instinctively, filling his lungs and then slowly allowing them to empty completely. For a moment, nothing happened; anticipation pulled his back straight despite his weariness. He avoided another inhale for a few seconds, but his chest ached nearly immediately, and he was helpless to suck a sharp breath through the towel. He shifted anxiously, waiting.

The first trickle hit directly over his nose, at first registering as no more than a feeling of warm pressure. The blood skidded off the towel’s loom initially, running in rivulets over the planes of Will’s face and dripping heavily onto his neck and shoulders. Will shuddered as his imagination filled in what he couldn’t see. His breathing increased, pulling air through the sodden towel.

Hannibal slotted himself between Will’s splayed legs. He continued to pour, carefully and consistently, both to avoid dirtying his suit with any splash-back, but also to prolong the beauty of the moment. The head of Hannibal’s erection brushed against the muscles on Will's reddened stomach, which tensed and shifted in response.

The towel soaked up the blood, making the colour spread in all directions over Will’s face. Soon, it was saturated. Hannibal shivered when Will’s next attempted inhale only made the soaked towel suck tight over his nose and mouth. He sputtered somewhat, then tried again to no success. Hannibal leaned his torso back so that he might take in the magnificence of what was before him.

Though the intended effect was the same, regardless of whether it was Hannibal’s hands around Will’s throat, or his cock stuffed in his mouth, being suffocated by his own blood made his panic spike and he felt a pang of wild terror that far eclipsed what he'd previously experienced. Every muscle in his body ached with the restraint of holding himself still. Because Hannibal had asked. Because this is what he’d wanted. But he felt like he was drowning.

Enough, his mind screamed. Will faltered finally, and his hand shot up to pull the towel off his face. Hannibal allowed him no reprieve: a waterfall of thick warm blood fell unimpeded over his nose and mouth. He sucked it back without thinking before bucking over to get away. With his other hand, he pushed at Hannibal.

Hannibal paused, insatiable hunger at once replaced with concern. “Confession?” he asked.

It took Will a moment to answer, his focus was entirely in trying to get air back through the sticky wetness that blocked his nose and filled his mouth with the taste of pennies. He coughed a few times, wiping the mess from his face. He was drenched in it. Bright red and gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lighting.

“Will,” Hannibal warned, pushing his head forcefully up to meet his gaze.

Apart from the obvious jut of his cock, standing outright and wet at the head, the signs that Hannibal was finding pleasure in Will's mistreatment were more subtle. Will saw it in how Hannibal's cheeks were just barely flushed, and in the thin sheen of sweat that had formed across his brow. It was in the way he moved his eyes over the mess before him, and how his hand holding the near-empty jug twitched involuntarily. It was clear: Hannibal was nearly as lost as Will. Pride at having made Hannibal feel good - for having provided this for him - swelled in his chest.

He wanted more.

“Please Sir,” he begged, licking blood from his lips.

Hannibal tilted his head, forever patient with him as he fought to catch his breath. Will wrapped a dripping hand around Hannibal's thick cock, causing Hannibal to hiss. Slowly, less out of a need to tease and more out of sheer exhaustion, Will started to slide his slick hand back and forth along the shaft. He watched, enraptured, and whined quietly.

“After all this, do I need to remind you to ask for precisely what you want?”

Will let out a small huff, but smiled weakly up. “Fuck my mouth, Hannibal. Make me taste only you.”

Hannibal growled, grabbed hold of the back of Will's skull, and tilted his hips forward. “Of course, darling.”

Hannibal slid in smoothly, this time keeping his thrusts shallow so that Will could use his tongue to lap along his shaft and suck open mouthed kisses over the head whenever he pulled back. It took only a moment. Will kept his mouth wide when next Hannibal slid out completely to watch the thick ribbons as they fell over Will's tongue. Will made a low rumbling noise of appreciation, and groped at his half-hard cock to appease the need that had settled in his groin.

When he was spent, Hannibal let Will suck lazily at his head, basking in Will’s contended worship. In time, Will pulled off and slumped himself across the toilet, a sloppy smile spreading over his lips and wrinkling the bloody streaks around his eyes.

“Thank you,” he let out, his voice shaky.

Hannibal leaned down, planting a chaste kiss against his crimson lips. “It’s worth it, isn’t it?”

“Hmm,” Will replied, tilting his head up for another kiss. “What is?”

“Asking for what you want.” Will huffed out a laugh, but nodded languidly. He felt on the edge of passing out, only this time there was no panic; only a blissed-out sense of satisfaction for having his cravings indulged. There was no need to come himself; knowing his own inclinations had pleased Hannibal was its own requite.

Hannibal pulled another white towel from the rack to wipe the worst of what was left on his cock before tucking himself back inside his pants. From inside a small cabinet, he pulled out several hand towels. He gave a disappointed look to Will as he passed them off.

“We’ll make due for now. I will draw you a bath when we’re back at my home.” Will made a small sound of protest, but was quickly cut off. “You may have eroticised your demise, but I would very much prefer to keep you around a bit longer. Let me check your vitals tonight, and then I can drive you home in the morning.”

Will made a move to stand, but even repositioning himself made his ears flood with the sound of rushing blood. He let out a weary sigh. “Yeah, ok.” He paused to rub the towels over his chest and neck, which did little more than smear the mess around. “Seriously Hannibal - I mean it, thank you.”

Hannibal gave Will a warm smile, then leaned over to lend a hand with clean up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much to jonnimir for writing the original work that inspired this one ([Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002965)). All of their kinktober fics are gems, I very enthusiastically recommend.  
> Thank you also to [Strats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/profile) for organizing the fest (and for [Nice ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicevensilace) and [Ish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood) for helping mod. It was an amazingly fun time!


End file.
